Getting Back To Me.

This blog here is for my friends and everyone else on this current wave of "suck."

Lately it just seems like everything is wrong. Personally, my stomach is upset and my shoulders ache beyond belief (if anyone wants to work out my knots, I'd appreciate that). The issue I am talking about here is, I don't know, I guess lies.

There are several types of them.

First is the bold face lie. Think back to your 15 year old self. Mom says to you, "Honey, where have you been all night?" After you have just walked in to your house at 1 AM and you are clearly disheveled. "Oh, I was at Amanda's house and we were hanging out and I feel asleep." You know you were out with Johnny, making out, resisting the urge to go all the way. You lie cause you can and really the repercussions of lying aren't that severe. Let's face it, sometimes lies are way more fun than the truth.

Then there is denial. Sweet Jesus I love denial. I am the queen of it. When someone says to me, "Jessica, did you yada, yada, yada..." I get my whole innocent-confused face ready and utter my infamous line, "I don't know what you are talking about." I just outted myself, if I state this line, grill me long enough, I will crack either by laughing or admitting it. I am a shitty liar anyway.We all do this. Play dumb, act innocent. We are all guilty of it. No one is innocent. We are all liars.

Then their are the folks who lie to themselves. People who wouldn't know the truth if it smacked them in the face. These are the people who get defensive when you call them out on their bullshit and then in turn get mad at you for not feeding in and buy said bullshit. These people are so lost, my heart goes out to them.

Next is the series of "little white lies." These are fun and somewhat harmless. For example, a pregnant friend asks you, "do I look fat in this?" And you respond, "oh, no darling, you are radiant." Who is going to tell a pregnant woman they look fat? No one in their right damn mind would. Pregnant woman are hormonal beast in a league of their own (see "Knocked Up" for prime example of said insanity). These lies are meant to be harmless, but they can malfunction.

Then there is the good old, lie by omission. This one is a beauty. If you know the answer and know damn well that you know the answer and know that no one will EVER, EVER, EVER catch you in this malarkey: why are you going to out yourself. These are the worst lies ever. They have the potential to end marriages/relationshits, create feuds, start wars, break hearts, and the list of "shit consequences" goes on and on...

I've just have way too many friends dealing with this nonsense (currently - hence, the "wave of suck"). It's creating hurt, creating agony, of being pushed around, having to deal with people's shit, of not just coming out and saying what is on your mind. This cycle of insanity will end when someone has enough balls to man up and say, enough is enough. Dig deep, find out what is making you deviate, what is making you unhappy. Figure it out. STOP THE INSANITY (wahoo, Susan Powter). People (in my belief) are good, we just get lost sometimes, we jump off tracks, we get scared, we go for the easy out.

If you love someone, say it. Who cares what anyone thinks. Love is never wrong. (If someone hits you, that isn't love- stop lying yourself and stop taking that bullshit, you are better than that). If you are unhappy in your situation, discuss it. What can you do to change it?Figure that shit out, all you are doing is making yourself miserable and in turn going to end up hurting yourself and others.

Sometimes I think life is a series of break ups and make ups. I mean, just think about relationships for a hot minute. When you are with someone and you aren't happy with them anymore, you break up or you cheat, then you eventually break up… It's that easy. If your job is pissing you off, look for a new one, accept new job and break up with the old job. If your friend isn't that great of a friend, break up. It may seem cold-hearted, but it's not. This is your life. YOURS, not anyone else's. We (people in general) waste too much time in other people's happiness. We can't make people happy, we can't change people. We can only do those things for ourselves.

So, in 2009 I am doing things a little differently. I am not doing them for other people. I am doing them for myself. I am going after what I want, who I want, and I am doing it when I want. Shit is gonna be on my terms. I am going to be more selfish, I am going to be more "me" focused. I love people. I genuinely do, but other people don't determine my cash flow, whether my bills are paid, there is a roof over my head, my car, my happiness… those all have a MY in common because those are all me. I am the owner of my life and I am taking it back.

To everyone that stands in my, good bye to you. New wave baby, get on and enjoy the ride!

(I just reread this and it a crazy, hot mess and I love how my mind works; hopefully y'all can follow my rant and get something - or not - out of this, I think it's pretty smashing!)

There is a light.

I am in a funk.

Occasionally I experience a 3-4 day span of nonsense. I literally cry at everything, I am easily disappointed, and I am more sensitive than ever (which is hard to top since I am excessively sensitive).

So here I am basking in my "blah-ness" and it's making me even more miserable. It's just weird how this happens. I am usually happy and I am in a good mood. Heck, I will even say I am the person people call when they need a little cheering up. There is always a bright side and a light at the end of the tunnel.

To cheer myself up I am making a list of things and people that make me happy (this really is in not particular order, just what pops off in my head):
-The kindness of strangers
-Smiles from children
-Baby Deanzo kisses
-Random text messages
-Angela, for sharing Cheesecake with me.
-Ridiculous jewelry (note my cupcake earrings)
-Pop music
-Scandalous stories from my friends as well as my own ridiculousness
-Kristi's cookies baking
-Cherice's competitive edge
-Tammie's dance with her pointer fingers and her eyebrows
-Christiney's laugh
-Gen's "Canadian" pronunciation of certain words
-5'9" and DD and higher club
-Pack in the WAC, bitch
-Laughing so hard that I snort
-My mom's crazy responses to everything
-The song, Imagine
-Black and White photography
-Random people's blogs
-Ali's way of makin' everything so "freaky, freaky fresh."
-My little sister, Barbie, who knows me too well and would call me a pathetic turd, right about now.
-Pop Rocks!
-McDonald's Coca-Cola
-Starbucks, the entire menu (excluding frappucinos)
- Britney Spears and *NSync
-My flat iron
-Eye liner, preferably soft black.
-Hard covered books
-PostSecret
-Sweet kisses
-New toothbrushes
-The lights on the Strip, I may hate venturing down there, but I love driving the strip and engaging in deep conversation or listening to music.
-The Hoover Dam, it's massiveness puts things in to perspective for me
-My UNR days from theatre to the dorms to the nonsense that was created there; those were my favorite days
-Casey's fart sound he makes randomly and always at the most inappropriate times
-Joel's creative ability
-Writing, I don't think I am very good at it, but people tend to respond and love it.
-My mind, if only 10 of you really knew the chaos it possessed.
-Robby's version of "Piano Man."
-Maggie's love of Fisting (I don't understand why that joke hasn't died)
-Crayola markers, the scented ones (the black one smells like roasted marshmallow).
-Pretty sunsets
-Sunroofs on cars
-Taking photos (I do have that pretty face after all).
-The nickname's I give my lovers and my roommates lovers.
-Finding something worthwhile on TV (it rarely happens, but when it does it is a gem).
-Calling Thanksgiving T-GIVE.
-Sidebar and Segue.

This is like a list of my raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, yada-yada. It makes me feel better. I have amazing people in my life and I am truly blessed.

Every once in a while I need to slow down, breakdown, and process. Reassess and figure out what I want and what I need, make a plan, take action. Good things are coming... I know it, I can feel it.

It happened to me.

It happened a year and a half ago.

I rarely talk about it. I feel guilty for not being torn apart by it like most girls who experience it do. I feel like I should be distraught, but I am not going to be defined by it or better yet, let it define me. There are only a few people who know the details of what happened that night and there are even fewer people who know that I even went through this.

I still think about it every week. It pops up. I am constantly reminded. It is talked about in the media, amongst friends, and it is even joked about. This is the only time I get a twinge in my stomach, when it's joked about. It pains me because there is nothing funny or slightly humorous about my experience.

I don't think I have an issue with it. It is just another scar on my heart, another chapter in my story called life. I don't know how I am supposed to act. I mean, there were certain activities I avoided. I couldn't handle bars or clubs (and I still have a hard time going to those places, unless in large groups with a bunch of friends). I stayed away from alcohol (I was intoxicated at the time of the incident). I don't like being alone for extended periods of time either.

I went to a counselor, but it didn't do too much for me. She wanted me to rehash things, which was the last thing I wanted to do. I got really drunk, made a stupid decision, trusted people I didn't know and they violated me. I didn't ask for it, I didn't lead them on, I made a stupid decision. I told her I couldn't keep dwelling on this nonsense, there was no good that would come from me talking about how it felt, what they did; I have to face what happened and move on. I don't know how you can process it. I have accepted it and kept on trucking. I didn't want to be a victim and I wasn't in denial. I know what happened. I am aware that it did happen.

Where I feel I got lucky in this whole situation, if you can even chalk it up to that. The two bastards that did this admitted their actions. All I had to do was make a statement, which was made over and over and over again the morning after the assault took place. It's all maddening when I think about it. The whole event plays in my head like a movie, but there are parts that slow down and are blurred and pieces missing.

I think what confuses me is my lack of emotional response. I am highly emotional. I mean, if I really sit down and think about it, I can cry and get angry, but there isn't a point to that. It gives them power. It keeps me reliving it, which is the last thing I want to do. I am even surprised I am writing about this. Maybe someone else has gone through this or something similar and has had the same emotional hang-ups that I have experienced, too. I don't know. It just shocks me that I have handled this situation so, so calmly.

Anyway, I have been thinking a lot about this whole situation lately. The before and the after and I don't feel like droning on and on about it. It is what it is; I think I needed to let it out for it not to be a secret anymore.

I was raped.

2008 was GREAT!

Oh sweet Jesus. I cannot believe I am sitting in my living room reflecting on the year that has just passed. It went by too fast. 2008 is really a blur and when I think about why, it's because this is the first complete year I've allotted myself a job with a routine schedule. I have a weekend job and I am in school. I am always working. This 9 to 5, Monday through Friday, bit has made the weeks fly.

This year I turned 27, which was the first time in my life I realized I am getting older. 30 isn't insanely old, but it's weird to think that 30 is 3 short years away. I am not afraid of it per se I just didn't think I would ever be that age. I tend to think in the now. I've learned to not dwell in the past and the future seems so far away. So the "now" works for me. I think my current situations are perpetual; this is how it is always going to be. Why I do this? I have no idea, especially because I know life changes and curve balls get thrown.

So let's go over the last 12 months …

Work, I have kind of touched on this. Work, I love it and I hate it. I love having money (who doesn't), but good god I don't enjoy putting up with the shit I have to do. But it pays the bills and allows to me live the life that I live. I am still at Starbucks. I've never had a single job this long, ever, but I really, really love it. It's a place that my happy, campy, outgoing, social ass gets to connect with the public! I also love my store, this is my third one, I transfer too much. My old store on Trop and Eastern closed earlier this year during that whole, we're closing 600 stores bit. I am fortunate enough to have a job now and I am even more fortunate to have two of them. Work is great, I cannot wait to graduate and see my options.

School. Ahh, graduate school. This is the most challenging aspect of my life. It makes me laugh, cry, pull out my hair, and stresses me to the max. It is so worth it. I am learning more and more about my character. I am a lot tougher than I ever realized. Fierceness, I am embracing it and I am going to make a stellar CEO someday, you can bank on that.

Love. So, I am still married, legally. This is a whole big area I don't talk about too much. I have way too many opinions on the matter of the heart. I just don't feel like posting my feelings and whatnot for the world to see. I also don't think certain gentlemen would appreciate being written about, this is reserved for my journal and my best, best friends. I will say I've had some cries, some laughs, and over all I am pretty much content with my "love life."

Friends. These are my real loves. I have the most amazing friends a girl could ever dream of. My friends are my life. They are my sanity. My shoulders to cry on, my people to laugh with until we pee our pants! You are my everything. Those who are special to me know who they are. They know how I feel. I try my best to let people know how much I care about them. I check in with people constantly. It takes less than a minute to text, message, or comment someone. It's the little things that we say and do that make others feel special. Maya Angelou states it best, "People will not remember what you said. They will not remember what you did. But they will always remember how you made them feel." I read this on a friend's MySpace page and it is profound and so true. (Sometimes when I reminisce, I will think about certain people and think, that girl was such a bitch; I can't think of specifics, but I can remember the bitchiness.)

Writing. Something I love more than anything is expressing myself. I can go on and on (like the energizer bunny) with my opinions, stories, and experiences. I don't know how people can be bombarded with constant information and not have an opinion here or there. I have taken it upon myself to write more often and I have. I love all the responses I have gotten from people. How they agree or disagree, or how I wrote something and it was exactly what they needed to hear or read. Our words and our voice are our power. I've stated it before and I will state it again, our words and ideas and thoughts are some of the only things we own that people cannot steal from us. My voice is my power. It has the power to communicate ideas, power to affect people's emotions, and the power to make an impact in some way, shape, or form.

My cats. Holy shit. I am madly, deeply in love with Deanzo. Every person that interacts with him loves him and they also threaten to take him away with me. It breaks my heart and also makes my eyes wonder around the room for objects that I can fashion in to shanks. Beans and Zuki are great and they are happy in their new home. They really are so loving and taught me I really am capable of loving so much and that I can indeed sustain life forms that are dependent on me. I love my furry friends and all of my friends' four legged lover muffins, too.

My life is really extraordinary. In the grand scheme of things I am so fortunate and I am in a really great place. I am consistently happy and have gotten more in touch with myself. I am so okay being me, which is something I never thought I would be able to achieve. I am confident and have stopped doubting myself. I realize I am this amazing person that has the world at her fingertips; I just have to reach out and grab it.

The tone of this blog is much more serious than I intended, but I also think it reflects that I have grown up. I mean, I really am getting old. About 2-3 weeks ago, my girlfriends and I went out. My friend did my hair and found my first TWO (yes two of them) gray hairs!

I cannot wait for 2009; it will be another slew of laughter, tragedies, and memories that I will forever cherish.

Cheers!

Emotions, Men, Relationshits, and Opinions.

I get so emotional baby.

Let me elaborate: Emotions are a many splendid thing. I experience a wide range of them. Kristi explains it the best when she says, "Jessiwhore, you are moody, but not like crazy like you just experience a wide range of moods." It's true. I am the most empathetic mother fucker there ever was. You cry, I cry. Don't even pop in "The Notebook" or "Titanic;" I alone could sink the Titanic with my tears. I think my love of psychology stems from my broad emotional range. Remember that commercial with the guy who cries when the puppies cry? That's me.

In regards to my friends, I don't fuck around. When I say we are thick, we are thick. My family is a mess (whose isn't and I don't feel like broadcasting that nonsense for the world to read, I am saving it for my tell all book), my friends are my extended family. When I love you, I love you for life. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I can look back and think negatively about people, persons, or situations, but I choose not to. Its life and you learn, constantly. Twice as much, focusing and harboring negative energy makes you a sad sack.

I don't know what it is with men lately, but it seems like EVERY SINGLE ONE of my lady friends is dealing with some sort of male-malarkey. It drives me mad and yet it entertains me ever so much. Relationships (or as I affectionately call the, realtionshits) are complicated. No question about it and no sense in arguing it. You take two people with their own sets of opinions, ideas, and life experiences, then you mesh them together and viola, potential for hot mess.

However, in my 27 and a ¼ year of life, I have had some encounters with the male species. I don't claim to be an expert, but people tend to talk to me about "relationship" issues because I tell it like it is. I enjoy bullshit, don't get me wrong, but when I see a RED FLAG I will let you know. It's just how I roll. I am fierce.

The matter of heart and mind are also complicated. Our heads tell us one thing, yet our hearts give us a completely different signal. They conflict and we are plagued with inner turmoil. My philosophy in this area is simple. It is simply the best advice and works for every situation. "Don't compromise who you are." If something doesn't sit well with you, research why and figure it out. We humans are animals and our animal tendencies will get the best of us (I know mine do, but I am also a fan of complication).

When you have to change who you are, you have an issue. You train people how to treat you. So, if you let your other half hit you per se (and you eventually forgive him/her), you have trained them that it is okay for them to hit you because you forgave them. When you tweak who you are to suit someone else's needs, you fundamentally lose who you are. What happens when you break up? You forget who you are and you feel lost and confused. It is so bogus. Now, I am not saying anything about compromising as a whole. For example, if your man loves sports (which like 75% of them do) you got to roll with the punches and go to that NFL game in San Diego when the Chargers play the Cowboys, it's the only way you'll get him to take you to see, "Hairspray." You work that small shit out and you know, he may end up with his buddies watching that game and you and your ladies will go and catch that show and toss back a martini or two.

I am talking about when you start changing who you are… Your friends will be the first to let you know. I've also learned that if your friends don't like your partner, there are going to be huge issues. Your friends are the people you CHOOSE to associate with. When your friends are having conflicts with your partner, I guarantee you are, too, if you don't see it you are probably floating on DENIAL (leave my lame psychology pun alone).

I don't even recommend getting in to a relationship until you know who you are, which happens in your late 20s for most people. But that is a whole other subject that I will drone on about later.Twice as much I am a stubborn ass. Right now I don't want all that fluff or at least I haven't found someone who's fluff I can tolerate. Someday it will happen, until then I am not going to worry about it nor am I going on the hunt to look for it. What, 50% of marriages end in divorce (personally, I love being a statistic, makes me part of the norm).

This rant has gone off track, I really don't know what point I was trying to make or it's intended direction, but here it is. I just have opinions that seem to work for me. I've been around the block several times and have switched neighborhoods; so sometimes I know a thing or thirty.

Basically, my friends are having "dude" issues, which is something I steer far from. I have my own slew of emotional "hang ups" and why I can't even fathom coupling myself off (I am in the course of making myself legally "single" again).

Okay, I am going to end this because at this point, I am just rambling. My boss would interject with a lovely line of, "keep your responses to me at a 12 word maximum" or "it is a simple, yes or no, answer." Which would inevitably hurt my feelings and I'd cry. Then I'd be back to exactly what started this whole nonsense started.

Whores of a feather flock to cock

I get by with a little help from my friends. I get high (on life) with a little help from my friends. Gonna try with a little help with my friends. - The Beatles ad lib by yours truly.

I am so fortunate to have you people in my life (yes, you reading this right now). I am surrounded by artist, comedians, scholars, hippies, gypsies, actors, whores, and whatnot. You make me so incredibly happy and you accept me for who I am. Support me in my goals. Tsk, tsk me when I need to be tsk, tsked (which is far more often than I'd like to admit). You folks are the cream of the crop, the cat's pajamas, all that and a bag of chips, and the bee's knees!

To my sisterfried, you are my every, everything. I am so glad we are where we are today. Who knew that two little enemies with not too much in common can be so different, yet so the same. You are my best friend. My little sister. My motivation. I love you whole-heartedly. ARKANSAS and NECK NECK

To Paulito. All I have to say is that I love you. And really, fuck your coach! You are my best friend, well, with a penis. You could have been numero 18, hombre. With yo' 'spic ass. Do me in the pooper, I don't wanna get pregnant. We gots jokes, tons nigga! You motor scootering, old chestnut you!

Peter: Lover, soulmate. Who else would want to buy Brit-Brit with me at midnight? Also, who else enjoys PODO as much as we do, oh and martinis, and scandals! Lover lumps, you minx.You and your fishbowl drinks! RA Sushi. 8 and half. Boys, boys, boys! Our impeccable ORAL skills. Our love is the kind that can last a lifetime, boo!

Karlee, my wife. I am so incredibly in love with you. It's sick. Really, it kind of makes me barf a la "Pukey McPukerson." Who else would I enjoy creative writing hour with, naughty photos in the kitchen, and pop rocks and red bull cola (taste like pure ass)! I love you and would really appreciate it if you would start GIVING A SHIT. Ha! Okay, I gotta go poop now! Now go dance in your leopard print panties... where's the beef?

Kristi "Big Boobs": I love you, ALLLL-RIGGGHT. You have such an amazing spirit. Really, you are so fun loving and have such a big heart. I enjoy your idealistic, romanticism. I love that our cats are BFFs, too! Really, Godzirrrra? Tonka Dick? and now, MAGNIUM. We are too fun!

WHORE POSSE: Y'all are my ROW DOGS. We have such an insane amount of fun! We are so eclectic and let me tell you this, we are freakin' whores galores! Let me break it down.

• Cherice – You may not know this, but you are our fearless leader, mostly because you are the purest. I love how loyal you are and I also love that you are a racist, white bread, eh… I read between the lines. Also, your place is HQ. I simply adore you (aka I am IN LOVE with YOU). SEGUE.
• Tam-a-lam-a-bing-bang: Your ass makes me wet. I love it. I love how we can have breakfast for 4 hours and then we can probably order lunch and not look like heifers. I am really glad you didn't turn out to be a cunt. Ha. You have an amazing fighter in love with you and I also fear your fire - Incredible Hulk ain't go shit on you!
• Mags: You are a whore, 'nough said. Thanks for never judging and all the late night fistin'. Mama likes. I love the ungoing number joke, although we have both been stagnant on our magical number for sometime now. Te mato!
• Mart-itty: I am jealous of your rack and I am sleeping with your boyfriend, I mean, uhh… I really like your hair. Whores of a feather, flock to cock. I love you and Tom. Just kidding about sleeping with him… or am I?
• Christiney: I love that you love sushi. Really. I love it. You are so fun and thank you for answering my "GINGER – FRECKLE" question. Way to take one for the team. Your giggle is so god damn cute, I can't get over it. You also have a nice rack!
  
• Robby: Thanks for putting up with our malarkey!You are indeed half man, half horse.
  
• James: I will cut your red-headed ass. I am gangsta, fo' sho.
• Lee-sa, newest edition: Welcome to the WP, you slut. Ha! You really have a kickin' body, someday you will share it with me. It's part of initiation. Everyone does me, I mean, it. Ya.
• Lastly, to Gen, our Canadian. Boo, you whore. Chillin' in sunny/rainy Florida! I miss you. You love politics and enjoy my political point of views. I wish you were here for Boxing Day. I think we may be the only people in WP who know what Boxing day is; and no it doesn't involve De La Joya!

Mavy: Uh, I love you wifey. Come over here and love my unBoston and unNew England ass. You are the love of my life and I know you will CUT. A. BITCH. for me. You are wonderful and I love your guts!

Hollywood: Erin, just know I love you BETTER. Pedis. Great Harvest. Someday you will be a fat ass and end up on the Biggest Loser. You have a dream and I am there to help you eat cheesecake or to pick your drunk ass up from Blue Martini at 4 AM. You will always be my lovebug, mush mush moster. I relish the fact that I was the first girl you ever kissed… someday we will be full blown lesbians once we get over all of our "crushes."

Ali Fiala: Bia, I love you. We are the sole survivors of the *MK, even if you aren't rockin' that fashion mullet. I miss haircuts with trash bags. Cigarette mics. Jersey-bucks! I love our long emails about nothing and everything. Just remember, mama loves you!

Stephanie: My barista sister, pen pal! You are the most considerate and the nicest person I know you. You have a glow about you. You are Charlotte from Sex and the City. I love how you write and I love that you call everyone friend (either that or it is a clever ruse to never learn someone's name)! You are my long distance BFF.

April Marie Fredericks: Who else would I have a matching tattoo with? You are my oldest and dearest friend! I love you forever. Please give consideration to the "Te Gusta Perro Caca?" stick figure dog tattoo, it's kind of brilliant. You and Man Hands are so freakin' boss! I wanna eat you up!

Natalie Ray: Soul sista from another mista! I love you. We've been through some bullshit, but we still have each other. No mas DJ Hurricane. I will always be DJ L.A.M.E. and you will always be DJ Dibbles! I love eating sushi with you (everyday you are in town) and how you shop til you drop! Someday I will make my migration to Seattle… and we will live happily ever after.

Javi: You is my baby daddy. My deck. I know that the current economy is shit and that they Wynn is shit (they can't even spell WIN correctly), but you still owe me the fuckin' surf and turf… LOBBBSTTTAAAAHHH. Done and done. Let's go see Mandy Moore again, but this time not break any laws!

Kelly: Stop thinkin' I am mad at you if you aren't on my top 192147 on myspace. It's just myspace and I love you. I love your spirit and how understanding you are. You always have something nice to say (she has a kind face, the kind you want to smash). I love that I got you in to the hoyty toyty complex and that you discovered the amazingness of sangria with me. We will ALWAYS hold Larry's Villa near and dear.

Amberguesa: You probably are the most random person I know. You always pop up at the most interesting time and you named your dog Hannah Montana and swear up and down it isn't after Miley Cyrus! I love that I can help you with grammar and it only annoys me slightly that you spell dude, "dood." Haha. Thanks for my new found love of country music and for my fear of artificial sweetener; diet coke and I are broken up forever because of you!

Angela: You love my pussy, Deanzo. You love postsecret. You call me your pseudo-counselor. I love the beginning to this new friendship we've created! I can tell it's gonna be a good one. You have such good vibes, I will help you find Omar/Owen... no worries.

I know this list isn't all encompassing. It doesn't mean I don't love you or that I don't like you. Some of you I hate, but I'd rather stay on your "good" side than be on the bad side. Kidding, again. I am incredibly grateful and blessed to have each and every one of you in my life. You make me laugh, some of you make me cry, but you are the glue that holds me together. Orgy please! Muah.

Fabulous!

I am a fabulous, fabulous bitch.

I've put a lot of thought in to this and I am pretty sure if I tried hard enough I could indeed shit glitter.

Here is a list of why I am fabulous:

1. I am a gay man (a queen if you will).
2. I have a clutter of cats with random names.
3. I am tall enough that I don't have to wear heels, but can rock them if I need to.
4. I know all the words to every damn *NSYNC song!
5. I have maxed out a credit card buying Britney Spears tickets.
6. I say OMG and LOL in common everyday talk.
7. People know I am a whore and accept me for it, in fact I have an entire Whore Posse.
8. I also know that the bird is the word.
9. I have a BA in Psychology and a minor in Theatre.
10. I can karaoke Britney Spears and/or Madonna better than anyone.
11. I went to college with Your Mom.
12. My little sister goes by Barbie.
13. I have read the entire Harry Potter series twice.
14. I speak my mind.
15. I tend to buy cocktails that match or accentuate my outfit.
16. I make COCK cakes and have a dick of the month club.
17. I don't believe in exercise, but believe highly in SEX-ercise.
18. I resemble Monica Lewinsky.
19. I didn't vote for Bush, TWICE.
20. This year, I Baracked the vote.
21. I have kissed lots of girls.
22. I have kissed even more boys!
23. I was once voted 'Biggest NOT Nice Person.'
24. I won the fifth grade spelling bee at my elementary school.
25. I am only 6-degrees away from Kevin Bacon.
26. My dad is a Postal Worker.
27. I am 6 months away from my M.B.A.
28. I named my 'girls' Thelma and Louise.
29. I know what happened at Band Camp.
30. I am a Starbucks Barista.
31. My home is the Pussy Palace.
32. I put a boot up Best Buy's ass.
33. There is a Hello Kitty toaster in my kitchen.
34. I have a written list of all my lovers.
35. My favorite band is tattooed on me and I share this tattoo with my oldest hussy.
36. I can do my make up with a little compact mirror while in a car.
37. The fact I don't have to wear make up at all, I am hot.
38. I have a tiara and wear it whenever I want!

I could go on and on, but my ego is a force to be reckoned with. I will bid you all ado and recommend that you concur with my list or I will cut you. And when I say cut you I mean, have one of my many bitches with ninja skills do the dirty work. Divas don't touch it. (Remember I have a posse.)

Tootles!

UNR - Freshman Year

This evening I received a text message from a friend I made in my UNR days. It stated, "I just saw a car with the license plate that said GOPENS." If anyone recalls Danielle, the RA on the first floor of Manzanita Hall, was a huge Penguins fan and she, too, had a GO PENS! sign, in which my bastard ass would graffiti it to read something like this, "GO PENiS!" Hey, I said I was a bastard already; an 18 year old one that was living in Reno, far away from her parents (and any sort of authority figure for that matter).

Thinking of this ridiculousness reminded me of how amazing my freshman year of college was. It was a strange, thrilling thing. We were a pretty tight knot group in Manzanita-Juniper Hall circa 2000-2001, we even called it "As the Dorm Turns" or ATDT for short because of the constant drama that ensues when you house young men and women in close quarters, then throw hormones in to the mix. So, I decided to write a blog and get nostalgic on this very pivotal year of my life! I don't even recall classes that much, mostly since I slept through all of them (and had to retake them during the summer), except that lame Environmental Science course I took with Julila who insisted on pounding on my door until I opened it-I never really slept through it, I just "pretended" to be a heavy sleeper (usually I was just nursing an intense hang-over).

Here is a list of some of the HIGHLIGHTS of that year:

Sorority Hoes – never did I know TPing a dorm room would be considered a FIRE HAZARD.

Underage gambling – it's more fun than it seems and you run like hell when you actually win more than 2 quarters.

Happy Hooker Hunting – Being 18/19 in Reno, it's just what you do, and as the "dorm man" often reminded us (not from experience) that "real" prostitutes don't have all of their teeth.

Shopping carts – you can push Saul's skinny ass through the halls or push one into the center of Manzanita Lake (sess-pool).

Domino's Pizza – Who still has advantage cash?

The Dick – it was there three times a day, except on Sundays!

Lydia and her Cocoa Puff – it only took Julila how long to figure out what "that" sound was.

Suck it, JJ – because Dorm Probation does exist.

The fucking Ducks – Seriously, they are loud, foul smelling asses and apparently geese.

The Tent Crew – Thanks for calling the cops on us Danielle, you cunt.

Your Mom – who didn't sleep with that big, white hairy assed lady?

Lounge Sleeper – Haha! He was bunked up with that weird redneck, confederate flag toting kid.

The Red Hot Chile Peppers – Viva Chile Merde! Exchange students are so bad ass.

Dead Man…zanita Lake – I will never forget the day the pulled that bloated body out of the water!

Vote No on Fountain 2 – strangely after the shopping cart on frozen Dead Man…zanita Lake, they installed that crappy fountain which keeps what circulating and unable to freeze.

24 Hour Shut the FUCK Up Hall – who decided it was a grand idea to put my loud ass in a 24 hour quiet hall, honor's dorm?

My Mormon Roommate and her stinky boyfriend – boy did I make a huge fuss about this! I still don't understand why he was so upset when he woke up while I was Febreezing him.

The Wall of Shame – it included all of my parking tickets, dorm write ups, random acts of klepto-ism, and all the other sorts of ridiculousness that I deemed to be worthy. Then I had to take down the "Wall of Shame" because I was ridiculing dorm authority. I just moved it in to the confines of room 304 where we mocked it was in hiding.

Pack in the WAC, bitch! We were the WolfPACK in the Western Athletic Conference! Somehow, this became our Motto!

Ding 'Em – aka Aaron, looking in to Nye Hall with binoculars and telling us he saw "menageries."

Squirrel Island – how did the squirrels even get there?

Mike – Yes, the blind kid who was super mean. Whatever happened to him?

These were the best days of our lives. When life was simple and all the basic needs were provided. We had meal plans, dorms, and people who were 21 at our needs!

Boo to the Flu!

Oh the flu, it came out of nowhere... it started out as minor muscle aches and a twitch in my throat, and then took a turn for the worse, but alas I woke up (barely) feeling like I had been hit by a truck Friday morning. It took me awhile to pry myself out of bed, and when I finally was up, I didn't even attempt to put myself together.

I arrived at work 30 minutes late and left about an hour later. I felt like hell and it was obvious. I love being asked, "oh, what's wrong with you?" To which I answered, "I think I have the flu." Each person backing away from and reaching Lysol wipes once my response was uttered. I love feeling like an infectious disease. I was going to try and suffer through the next hour or so my office was open, but it didn't happen. I wasn't man enough to endure it.

When I am sick, I am ridiculous. More ridiculous than usual, may I add. I can't function. I am a hot, hot mess. So, yesterday leaving work (which is in North Las Vegas) and getting home (which is remotely in the Mountain's Edge area) felt like forever (it takes about 30 minutes without traffic), I walked upstairs and went into a coma.

I woke up feeling like hell... it was worse. All I did was sleep. I went to bed at 8:30 the night before. All I did was sleep and I hate it (it has to do with being unproductive). So, last night about 9:30 PM I woke up, I decided to take a shower and head out to get drugs... who goes out of the house at 10 PM (at this point) with the flu and a wet head of hair (it was 42 degrees out according to my hi-tech car)? This reiterates the fact that I don't function while I am sick.

To make matters worse, I had to go three (technically, four the Walgreen's on Blue Diamond and Durango is still under construction) different pharmacies to get doped up. Both the CVS and Walgreen's on Warm Springs and Durango closed at 10 PM. I had to drive down to the CVS on Rainbow and Warm Springs, which is 24/7 (which the other two should be as well, this is Vegas, damnit).

So, I hop in to CVS and am on a mission to get on drugs. Except the place is littered with crap, there are all sorts of random goodies in the store: make up, holiday cards, bath room goodies, and several of those "As Seen on TV" products; the drugs I needed were all the way in the back of the store. It's strategic because if spread my coodies all over the pretty things, people will get infected with my coodies and then have to happen upon CVS for their sickness needs. Apparently, I was disoriented cause the CVS dude came up to me and asked if I needed any help. (I may not have mentioned this earlier, but this flu has made me extremely nauseous) Mr. CVS smelt like pure ass-oline aka Marlboro Reds. It took all my will-power to not puke all over the store and him. I grabbed TheraFlu and other assorted goodies and made my way home.

I don't know what exactly in is in that TheraFlu, the TheraFlu Warming Relief, and Vic's VapoRub, but it was a winning combination. I drifted off into a drug induced slumber and awoke this morning only feeling as if I had been hit by a small sedan! I still feel like hell, but am a little more functional and pretending to be coherent enough to write this blog, but nonetheless I am on the downhill slope toward normalcy.

To add to my ridiculousness, there is a Hannah Montana marathon on the Disney Channel, followed by the first two installments of High School Musical. Yes, I am aware that I am well into the latter half of my twenties, I am pushing thirty almost, but I love this crap. It is wholesome, Americana at its finest. Perhaps I enjoy it so much is because every other aspect of my life is so complicated. I like relishing in the in the nothingness of it. No hidden messages, no sustenance, just pure sugar-coated Frosted Flakes and I eat that shit up by the over sized spoonful.

So if anyone needs me, I will be on the couch, in my PJs, sippin' Lemon flavored TheraFlu, cuddling with Deanzo, and watching "crap" TV. God Bless Americana.

And Deanz-o is his name-o!

As you all know, I have a clutter of cats: Beans, Zucchini Walnut Muffin (Zuki), and Deanzo. Each one has his/her own distinct personality. My roommates even have fun names associated with two of them, "Fuckin' Beans" and "Pukey McPukerson," (Zuki).

However, the cat that steals my heart and I mean really steals it, is baby Deanzo. I love him. He's this little white furball that I am glad to come home to everyday. He follows me around, answers (9 times out of 10) when I beckon him and he's always DTC (down-to-cuddle).

However, on a sadder note, Deanzo is retarded. I mean REALLY retarded. I've noticed he's a lot slower than the other cats. So, I took him to the vet. Had all sorts of test done on him... the last being a kitty brain scan. Homeboy has neurological damage from stress to the brain. The back story on this is that my friend's boyfriend got Deanzo (named Dean James back then) from PetSmart; this boyfriend also had a pug puppy that used Deanzo as his personal chew toy. To make a long story short, I cat-napped Deanzo (wrong on so many levels, but so right). This guy wanted to put dynamite up this cat's ass on NYE. I did a liberty and stole him and it is a decision I will never regret.

Well, bottom line is that I love Deanzo and he loves me. Apparently so much so that when cats are outdoor kitties, they run around and if they love their owners enough, they will bring them presents (dead mice and such). Being as I am not about to let me precious furry friends tramp around outside (I'd worry way too much about their well-being and Blue Diamond is a raging hot mess), I keep them indoors in a climate controlled environment. Since little baby Deanzo doesn't have access to the elements and other rodents, he brings me stuffed animals, oven mits, and my roommates slipper. It's hilarious. Karlee's son even thought I stole his stuffed penguin, which she said, "No, Jessica didn't, Deanzo did."

There have always been random items in my room and I had no idea how they got there. For example, I was in bed the other day and I roll over and there is a little stuffed tiger on my bed. This morning, Karlee's slipper was at the foot of my bed. Tomorrow, Kristi's "Hello Kitty" oven mit will show up at my threshold.

How do I know it's Deanzo? I wish I was home more often, cause the image in my mind is precious. Apparently, he sees the said item (sacrifice), eyeballs it for a while, goes up and teases it, then places it in his mouth, then he waddles up the stairs with said gift, meows at the top of his little, kitty lungs and finally presents the goods to my room. Isn't that beyond cute? I don't know why he doesn't do this when I am home. Maybe it's my reward for slaving all day...

I know I am not fancy on kids and the last thing on earth I ever want to be is a Mom, but Deanzo is my baby and I am his mother. He melts my heart and has healed it so many times. I love him more than anything, even when I scoopin' his nastiness out of the litter box. He's the best. My other cats only love me when they want something, specifically food.

Yes, this is a blog about my cat, but I fuckin' love him and I know that if he read this he'd melt inside, too. He'd also probably get me the burrito I always ask him to get for me and he's probably leave all of those random presents for me.

I am destined to be a crazy, cat lady, but I don't mind so much. I just feel bad for all the other cats out there. They are nowhere near as pimp as my little low IQ reason for living!

Britney Spears, I'd put it in you.

OMG. Really.Omigod. I love her. I just do. Brit-Brit and I have been in a love affair that has carried on for over a decade now. Today being her 27th birthday, it only seems fit that I declare my devotion for Ms. Britney Jean Spears.

I first encountered Britney when I was 17 years old. She came on the television, singing a song so infectious I couldn't help but sing and dance a long to it. "Baby, One More Time" became my jam. I would watch MTV non-stop hoping and wishing and praying she would grace my television screen. However, I was deeply in the closet about it. Brit-Brit didn't fit in to my collection of typical music (at the time I was heavily involved with Hole, Garbage, Smashing Pumpkins, Reel Big Fish). It was bad enough I had a secret obsession with *NSync (they were and still are my original McDreamys) that I had to keep to myself.

So, I kept these "pop tarts" to myself. I bought their albums claiming they were for my little sister (who was 15 at the time). I would walk around school with them blasting on my Disc-Man and kept them concealed in my Garbage v. 2.0 case and pretend it was Shirely Manson that was singing to my soul.

However, once the "Sometimes" video hit the airways, I couldn't contain my love for her anymore. I outted myself and declared my love for her and my boys *NSYNC. Britney was everything I wanted to be. She was flawlessly gorgeous, she could dance like no one's business, and she sang songs that spoke to my adolescent loins. She was my American Dream and I hopelessly worshiped her.

My dad bought me tickets to see her live. It was amazing. I got to take a trip down the bayou to good old New Orleans, where to my shock I was surrounded by 10 year olds to teenagers to grown ass women. Britney, I found out and much to my surprise, spoke to the masses. Seeing her belt out "I Was Born to Make You Happy," "Baby, One More Time," and "Crazy" live were the first orgasmic happenings of my youth.

As time passes, I have matured and Brit has kept pace with me. She got married Vegas style, I got married Vegas style. She went a little nuts and I, myself, got a little crazy. (Damn quarter-life crisis) As her sound transitioned from the unrequited love of our youth ("always and forever you and me, that's the way our lives should be") to the awkwardness of that between stage ("I'm not a girl, not yet a woman, all I need is time, a moment that is mine, while I'm in between"), to the fun and frivolousness of our early twenties ("baby, I'm a freak and I don't really give a damn"), to the self confidence found in latter half of our twenties ("there's more to me than what you see, you wouldn't like when I'm angry"). Britney and I have grown together and although we lead to very different lives, I get her. I dig her. I know how great she is.

A lot of people talk shit. Imagine from the age of 13, being told how to do everything. From what you drink, to what you wear, to what you eat, to what you sing about; step back for a minute and imagine almost every aspect of your life being controlled. Now take it a step further not only are you in a controlled environment you are enduring the awkwardness that we all go through in our late teens and early twenties. Top it all off with being followed non-stop by the paparazzi and almost every sanction of your public life being photographed or taped... you would go a little crazy, too. Britney Spears is one tough cookie.

Then there is the lot of you that will argue, "she chose fame, she chose this life." We all have dreamt about fame and fortune (c'mon on now). When little Brit had that twinkle in her eye at age 12, I don't think she could fathom what a wet dream she would become. What 12 year old has that great a grasp on reality? I mean look at her now. She is a pure sex machine. She doesn't lie on that new track, "all of the boys and all of the girls are beggin' to If You Seek Amy," (read between the lines). I'd give it to her if she let me; I'd gladly take Justin Timberlake's and K. Fed's sloppy seconds.

I love Britney. I do. Her music makes me shake what my mama gave me (which is plenty, thanks mom). Last night, I drove on down to Zia and bought her latest collection of amazingness entitled, "Circus," (which the kind people of Zia let me buy at 11:55 PM and they also had Candy Cane flavored Pop Rocks (double score)! Just like her previous efforts it is a good time. My only beef is that the track "Radar" appears on this album, again. It was my least favorite track on "Blackout" and I still don't fancy it. She could have at least remixed it our something.

I just bought my pre-sale tickets for my sister and me and this will be my fourth (damn ovary) and my sister's fifth time seeing Ms. Spears (cause we're nasty like that). We love us some Brit-Brit. She can do no wrong. It's just not possible. I love her: the good, the bad, and the ugly. She always has and always will be my American Dream.

A Decemeber to remember

On the REALS, y'all. Yes, I am gonna bust out my Louisiana slang, I have to…

Ms. Britney Spears' new album Circus drops on the 2^nd, which is tomorrow and I am picking it up at midnight, like all good Brit-a-holics should. I cannot wait. Just wait, there will be many wine and Britney nights in the near future (PODO –pants off, dance off), people! Bring on the Cabernet Sauvignon and the Rieslings, wait for it… just wait.

Then, one of my BFFs from high school in Louisiana is gracing me with her presence! Wahoo, Lindsey Hartman! I love you and cannot wait to have you here. It will be a blast and people will look at us funny as we blurt at y'all and say our looooong vowel sounds. Super hero stance! Charlie's Angels! Super Twig! Wahoo… I cannot wait. We may also head out to California and hit up Disneyland… I may have a cold that weekend, can't work, boo… ha.

Once Hartman gets here it is time for the Ugly Christmas Sweater Party (2^nd annual party of this nature). I promise I won't get too drunk this year and go around telling everyone how much I love them. At least I am a happy drunk and I will make you feel special. However, with our Canadian (Gen, my love) out of town and not available for a safe ride home and deep political (liberal, mind you) conversation, I think on a scale of 1 to 10, I am gonna be a 2 on the sober side… yes, sorry. I digress, if someone wants to throw on "Frosty the Snowman," I don't mind giving a second show. It only seems fit as this is the 2nd Annual Ugly Sweater Party... It's all about the DEUCE and I don't mean POO.

My love of all loves, my email buddy, my barista sister, Stephanie is coming to town and I love the beans out of this lady! We will have lots of fun talks about life, God, politics, men, sex, and all other lovely girl things women talk about... See you soon, friend!

It's almost Christmas! Holy shit. It's the most wonderful time of the year. Really, I love Christmas. People generally turn into lunatics of various sorts. You got the big gay wads (such as myself), you have the angry, disenchanted who just hate the world (no matter what), you have the crazed, stressed people (the OCD type) who need everything to be perfect, lastly there is the unaffected ( Johava's Witnesses, Un-Christian people, and the Ebenezer Scrounges of the world).My favorite part is getting to see magic in children's eyes (remember, I am gay). I know for a fact that I am definitely on the naughty list, I don't think I have ever NOT been on the naughty list, but whateve. I like all this coal I have been accumulating, one day (fingers crossed) it will turn in to a bunch of diamonds, but I am not quite sure how to cultivate it properly, but I think for now "Coal Earrings" are a fierce fashion statement. (Damn my optimism!)

It's a new year, almost! We get to say "Peace the fuck out to 2K8" or as Scott-i-licious has been referring to it as "THE OCHO." I have a year end blog that I will put out and I am sure as I have done before probably talk more about Britney than I talk about my husband/ marriage (which is a lovely, lovely story). That's just how I roll. I love New Year's time though. Everyone has the best intentions… ahh, good intentions pave the way to Hell. But people really are generally at their best and kissing ass. It's phony, but it's pleasant. You can't blame them either. People like presents and people like FAT Christmas bonuses.

So yes, this December I am going to be exceptionally gay. I am full of cheer and merriment. I am not upset about anything and I pretty much happy and satisfied with most parts of my life.

Also, on a quick segue (SIDEBAR), December is the last FULL month we have of good, old President Bush. I will deeply miss his hilarious commentary (so-called Bushisms). To one last month with Georgie-boy!

December, I am only 12 or so hours into your goodness and it's all ready been grand, I still have 30 and half days with you, cheers!

PS: Hilary Clinton was just named Secretary of State... Oh December, I am going to make sweet love to you... in my car, cause it has not been broken in yet...

My Not "To-Do" List

Most people have lists of things "TO DO" before they die, their so-called "Bucket List." I, on the other hand, think it would be far more interesting for me to write about things on my "NOT-TO-DO List." A "NOT-TO-DO LIST" is simply experiences I would rather not experience, things I will be more than content to miss out on in my life.

1. Bear a child. This is quite simple. There is nothing (and I mean nothing )that appears more horrifying in life than a sack of cells growing inside my body. Then after countless side effects (morning sickness, expanding belly, hormonal imbalances, random food cravings, etc) I have to push this life form through my vagina and there is a possibility of ripping something, pooping in front of complete strangers, contractions, and complications resulting in emergency c-section. On top of that, you are now responsible for this child for the rest of your life. Let's face it. Most of us move out after high school, but how many times have you had to swallow your pride and move back home for a minute or ask daddy to borrow a few hundred… I have no desire to give birth or carry on my family's genes.

2. Sky dive. The thought of being on an airplane alone makes me white-knuckled. Then you want to strap some stranger to me and have me chuck myself toward the earth? I don't think so. I am not an adrenaline junkie and don't think I ever will be. I am also heavy, so I think my velocity will be that much more intense. So, I will try to stay as grounded as possible. I am speaking in terms of my physical body, we know my ego is through the roof.

3. Eat monkey brains. I don't think I even need to reiterate why. Monkey brains… just fuck that.

4. See the Middle East. I live in Vegas, it's about 117 degrees during the peak of Summer, mind you. The thought of seeing a part of world where it is equally as hot, then throw in some religious fundamentalism, and to top it all off centuries of hostile religious clashing. Why would I want anything to do with that?

5. Become vegan. I love animals, yes I do. I also love a nice steak. A diet with no meat, cheese, cheesecake, ice cream, chicken nuggets, lobster, and whatnot is no life for me. Half the people who subscribe to this way of life (which I have nothing against, fyi) look like they need to eat a pizza. They look pale-faced and emaciated.

7. Turn Republican. Time after time, I have heard from friends and acquaintances that once I have completed my graduate degree and I am making "bank," my social-liberal view points will change. Apparently my greed will take over. Shenanigans I say. I'm not conservative in anyway, shape, or form. I believe in taking care of the people and I don't care if a percentage of my income goes to provide basic social services.

8. Fall out of Love. I am convinced I will never love any man more than I love my cat, Deanzo. Twice as much, I've been down that street a few times . It turns me into a mushy sack and then someone inevitably fucks it up. My jaded views on matters of the heart can be attributed to Disney movies.I believe in love, I just don't believe in undying, unwavering, all consuming love. I believe in moderate love that comes in waves of highs and lows.

9. Be a Housewife. I don't want to have kids. So, a stay at home mom was purposely not chosen. I cannot imagine staying home all day, shopping, cooking, cleaning, being completely domestic. However, the thought that my biggest burden could possibly be reruns of "All My Children" and not having any entertainment between the twelve and one o'clock hour is quite liberating. Also, a torrid affair with the mail man is another fun-filled fantasy running through my mind.

This is all I can think of for now and I am sure I will add on to this list, but as of now, this is it. As long as the aforementioned experiences stay away from me, I am sure I will continue to be a happy, go-lucky lady.